Page 53 of Desire's Ransom
Chapter 15
Ryland was appalled. He could well believe Cormac O’Keeffe was not well-liked. He’d seen how the man treated his servants.
But it had never occurred to him that a chieftain would allow hisclannto starve for the sake of enriching his own coffers.
To think that good folk like these—a ragtag group that included a pair of battle-weary warriors, a noble knight, a matron who could read and write, an impressionable young lad, a goodhearted friar—had banded together, not out of greed, but to help their suffering neighbors…
He felt humbled.
And he silently swore that when he was lord here, he would make things right.
The jolly, black-bearded fellow, Ronan, cracked the uncomfortable silence by exclaiming, “Who’s for a thimble o’ wine, compliments o’ the jurist?”
Considering there was one wineskin and over a dozen of them, a thimble-full was likely about all they’d get.
“I’ll have a taste,” the red-headed lad called Fergus said.
“One for me.” Friar Briar stirred the pot. “The cook always gets a sip.”
“Ryland?” Ronan asked, lifting a brow. “As our guest, ye should have the first taste. Ye can tell us if the wine of a jurist is lawful…or awful.”
Ryland couldn’t help but smile. The rhyme was almost as amusing as the fact that Ronan had called him a guest.
The woodkerns were unique. Noble knights and friars exiled to the woods. Thieves who gave their take to the poor. Abductors who treated hostages like honored visitors. They were unlike any outlaws he’d ever encountered.
He still didn’t know what to make of Gray. She was both fierce and fun-loving. She possessed the earthiness of a crofter, but the regal bearing of a queen. She spoke of justice in strong terms. Yet she seemed to have no qualms about violating his trust.
What was a woman like her doing in a band of woodkerns?
He peered sidelong at the breathtaking maid. A lady so attractive should be wed by now. She shouldn’t have to sleep outdoors. Or fret over starving crofters. Or wage war for her right of way on a fallen log. She should have a husband to protect her. She should have dozens of beautiful children with gray eyes.
Before he could ask her for her story, Ronan handed him the wineskin.
The wine was sweet and strong. After they’d all taken a swig, Ronan slipped into the cave and rolled out a wooden barrel.
“On to the good brew,” Ronan announced, rubbing his palms together.
The ale, which they said was brewed every week by Sorcha, flowed freely as the woodkerns settled down to supper. The rabbit pottage was tasty, considering it had been made from whatever was at hand. And the auburn-haired woman’s oat bread soaked up every last delicious drop of the broth.
As they supped by the fire, the woodkerns regaled Ryland with stories. Most were humorous accounts of their thievery. Some were sad tales ofclannfolk who’d died in years past. And some gave glimpses of the outlaws’ lives before they were outlaws.
It didn’t take long before Ryland began to feel as if he were not a hostage, but indeed a welcome guest. There was no animosity or ill will toward him, even though he was English and one of the wealthy nobles they were supposed to despise. In this setting, they were all equals. It was curious.
Through all the storytelling, Gray was silent. She absently stroked the fur of the wolfhounds, who sat on either side of her now, like two tall pillars shielding her from harm.
“What about you, Gray?” he finally asked. “How did you come to live in the forest?”
Her fists tightened in the dogs’ fur. He could almost see her mind flitting through possible answers.
In the end, she shrugged. “There isn’t much to it. I lost my ma when I was young. My da had no use for me. So I ran away.”
It was as vague an answer as she could have given him. But he didn’t want to press her.
What was the point, after all? In another few days, he’d leave the outlaws, return to the keep, and wed his betrothed. He’d forget all about the woman named Gray. Her shimmering silver eyes would fade from his thoughts. Her soft pink lips would seem like a dream he’d once had. The incredible kiss they’d shared would be only a hazy memory.
Only that memory wasn’t so hazy at the moment. He remembered every intimate detail.
Her mouth opening in pleased surprise.
